


constant

by finalizer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Force-Sensitive Hux, M/M, in which Hux turns out to be force sensitive, it's a surprise to both of them, post-TFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:41:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5858335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finalizer/pseuds/finalizer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>You</i> did that," Ren murmurs.<br/>"Did what?"<br/>"The blockade —" Ren starts, " — you pushed me out of your head."</p>
            </blockquote>





	constant

**Author's Note:**

> *nagging voice at the back of my head* that's not how the force works

"Care to explain what you were thinking?" Hux demands with no preamble, barging into Ren’s quarters in the med bay, momentarily wary of finding the door unlocked. Ren must have sensed him coming, felt Hux's growing irritation from the other end of the Destroyer. "Was this another means to an end?"

Ren blinks up at him from the bed, almost blearily, making it extremely evident he’d just regained consciousness. Hux had been summoned immediately when the medics had been alerted of Ren’s state, and Hux had already prepared a tirade for the momentous occasion.

He pays no mind to Ren’s exhaustion. "The oscillator collapsing, and you take a stroll in the woods," he snaps. "Better yet, you were aware of the intruders’ presence, no doubt of the explosive devices, and failed to consider that notifying me would have been a suitable course of action. Instead, you get yourself into this state — "

"I killed my father," Ren interruptus. It’s palpable, his disorientation, the fact that he’d not been listening to a word out of Hux’s mouth.

"I’ve heard," Hux says simply, perhaps harsher than he’d intended. He doesn’t question Ren’s actions, doesn’t condemn nor praise them, not nearly knowledgeable enough in the matters of his past. "You want me to say something," he adds, when Ren’s silence speaks volumes. "I won’t. I hardly think it’s any of my concern."

"I was not expecting this degree of disinterest," Ren drawls. It sounds almost humored, his tone, a poor match with the bitterness contorting his features. "Never thought you were the type to refuse prying."

Hux masks his incredulity. "Yes, because of the two of us, _I’m_ the one who pries. I care little for your private affairs, Ren, until they get directly in the way of my orders," he pauses to compose himself, however inconsequential the action, "which they did. Whatever feuds you were settling cost us the Starkiller. I hope you’re happy with yourself."

Ren pushes himself up on shaky arms and Hux fails to suppress a twinge of sympathy when Ren winces at the pain. The scar marring his face is faded, twisting across his cheek and forehead. It’s almost comical, that Ren finally found himself a reason to conceal his identity behind his mask.

"You blame _me_?" Ren spits, "Have you taken into consideration the incompetency of your troops, your weapon? Perhaps your _own_? I had nothing to do with the shield generators being disabled, General. That was your failure, allowing the enemy into your airspace."

Hux ignores the barb, and turns the words over in his mind — Ren’s acute awareness of the specifics, of how the base had been destroyed, piece by piece —  finds it odd how quickly he’d acquired access to information, considering how recently he’d awoken.

"I’m thrilled you’re recovering," Hux says finally. "I’ll be back when you’re finished being a petulant child."

He’s halfway out of the room when Ren shouts after him. Hux finds himself wondering, almost instinctively, if the med bay is equipped with soundproofed walls, or whether he’d have to sort out the matter of Ren’s impending tantrum with the appropriate staff.

" _I did what I had to do, Hux_."

Hux turns and fixes Ren with a steely glare. "I suppose congratulations are in order, then. If you’ll excuse me, I have more than enough work to attend to. Your _victory_ doesn’t change that."

He spits the word mockingly and swears he feels his hairs standing on end as Ren’s bristling anger wraps around the room, air suddenly stale and suffocating. It’s a childish display of Ren’s power, a weak threat that Hux is accustomed to.

"What are you trying to accomplish, hm?" Hux snaps, undeterred. "Aiming to intimidate? I would suggest reconsidering your approach if you desire results."

Ren’s reply is nothing near what Hux expects. "Why did you come back for me?"

Hux stops short, hovering a foot away from the bedside, in a manner all too uncharacteristically tentative. He schools his expression into a mask, professional and concealing, much like Ren’s physical equivalent.

"I had orders from the Supreme Leader to get you out alive," he answers, almost automatically giving into Ren’s attempt at changing the subject. ‘You’ll find I didn’t have much choice in the matter. I apologize in advance if that’s not the heartfelt reasoning you wanted."

If Ren is hurt by the remark he hides it well. "And if you didn’t have orders? Would you have left me?"

Hux doesn’t allow himself pause. He replies immediately, not wanting to give Ren reason to question his motives. "I didn’t even know if you were alive. I’d hardly risk the lives of my men on a hunch."

"So you would have — left me."

"Is there something specific you want to hear? An ardent confession?" Hux demands. "I’m afraid that’s not on the dossier for today."

"You’re angry with me," Ren says, though it rings like a question. It’s an honest achievement, that Hux manages to contain his scoff.

"Have we not been over this? Yes, Ren, I’m angry. I’m _furious_ — "

"Doesn’t look like it."

Ren’s jab at Hux’s permanent composure is enough to send it crumbling. "I’m sorry I’m not living up to your standards of making a scene. I have enough mind to control my actions and keep myself in line, rather than break apart at the slightest inconvenience, _Ren_ , and I know well enough, when something far bigger than myself is at stake, to put aside my petty personal grievances and do what I must for the greater benefit."

Hux sets his jaw, Ren’s almost sneering at him in return. It’s a pitiful confirmation that Hux’s words are hitting home.

 _"Selfish_ ," Hux snaps. "You utterly lack respect. You walk the halls as if you’re on top of the chain of command, you abuse resources and facilities, you seem to forget you lack authority in dealings with the troopers and when something gets in the way, you _slaughter_ it, obliterate it like the mindless attack dog you are — "

All traces of humor vanish from Ren’s face, yet an irrational, unexplainable rush spurs Hux on, keeps him talking, the reality of the Order’s failure, of the destruction of his life’s work betraying itself in the biting accusations he hurls at Ren.

" — Frankly, I’m unsurprised you did what you did with your father. Forget rationale, forget cause and effect, it’s so much _easier_ to destroy everything in your path — "

It doesn’t come a surprise when Hux feels the invisible hand coiling around his throat, the pressure on his windpipe enough to halt his words, blur his vision almost instantaneously. He’d anticipated this as a possibility, Ren lashing out in the only way he could in his damaged state.

Hux balls his hands into fists at his sides, digging his fingernails into his palms to anchor himself to consciousness as Ren’s vice grip tightens, black dancing across his line of sight. It’s when Hux can’t find the strength to struggle anymore, to draw choked breaths, when he considers that he might have crossed a deadly line, that Ren releases him.

Hux stumbles forward, one hand taking the impact, bracing on the edge of Ren’s bed, the other flying up to grasp at his throat. He manages a ragged cough before whipping his head up to meet Ren’s eyes with as much venom as he can muster.

The expression he’s met with is almost empty, Ren’s white hot rage so ingrained in his very person that it fails to manifest on his face.

It reminds Hux of their occasional nighttime dalliances, the senseless exhilaration he’s unexpectedly feeling, and he can’t bring himself to shut his mouth and leave Ren to deflate on his own. No matter how asinine the alternative, he doesn’t relent.

"Is that the only way for you to get your point across? Literally going for my throat rather than using your words, Ren? You insist you’re not a child and shoot down your own claims with displays like these."

"You said it’s not any of your concern," Ren finally speaks up, voice hardly as level as his controlled expression, "when you mentioned my _personal affairs_. You were right. It’s not."

Hux knows he’d crossed the line, speaking of Ren’s family the way he did, and quickly dismisses the thought, unwilling to give Ren the satisfaction of seeing the admission in his mind.

"Is this because of Snoke?" Ren inquires, and Hux is taken aback by his bluntness, as well as the question itself.

"What does Snoke have to do with any of this?"

"He ordered you to bring me to him, I felt that," Ren admits. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing. To fetch you from the disaster zone that'd become of my base and put you back together in time for our arrival."

There’s a note of trepidation in Ren’s voice that Hux pointedly ignores. "We’re heading there now?"

"We are."

It sparks Hux’s concern — Ren’s sudden silence, the unsettling intensity of his gaze. He’s about to snap at Ren to quit staring, as immature as such a statement would sound, when he feels it — a brush at the back of his mind, a fleeting feeling similar to Ren’s usual probing of his mind, but far more gentle, more calculating.

"Get out of my head," he instinctively barks, and the sensation stops, Ren’s eyes growing wide with surprise rather than shame at being caught. Hux realizes Ren’s actions were purposefully softer, to avoid detection.

Ren doesn’t confirm what he’d been doing, instead demands, "Did Snoke say something to you? About the base? — Is that why you’re venting? Because he threatened you?"

It doesn’t take a genius to piece together that that’d been what Ren was trying to find in his mind — a hint of a lie, a grand deception to conceal from him Snoke’s true motives.

Hux is about to turn, to leave Ren to wallow in his pathetic paranoia, when the prodding returns, even less tangible than the first time around.

"I said, stay out of my damn head, Ren," Hux bites out.

The second time around, Ren fails to conceal his confusion altogether, brows drawing together in a tight knit. "You shouldn’t feel that," he mutters.

"You shouldn’t be poking around — "

"No," Ren interruptus, an odd combination of distress and curiosity lacing his tone, "you shouldn’t be able to feel that. You’re not — "

He trails off and Hux tilts his head, more concerned with how often Ren had dipped into his mind without his knowledge than with whatever he’s going on about now. Ren stares at him, eyes narrowed, and it’s pressure enough for Hux to find himself taking a small step back.

"I have work to do, Ren."

He feels the nudge against his consciousness and though it’s almost teasing, experimental, on Ren’s behalf, Hux is too fed up with his insolence and hardly tries to lower his voice as he rounds on Ren, blood rushing in his ears with every word he forces out.

 _"For the last time, I told you to_ — "

The feeling disappears.

A beat passes and Ren is staring at him in awe.

 _"What_?"

"You did that," Ren murmurs.

Hux tries to push down the uncomfortable panic rising in his throat. "Did what?’"

"The blockade — " Ren starts, " — you pushed me out of your head."

Ren is sitting up, paying no mind to the aggravation of the bandages wound around his abdomen, an open incredulity in his eyes as he waits for Hux to explain.

He doesn’t. He _can’t_.

Hux forces himself into a faux state of calm, the same way he’d done at the Academy, the same way he’d done as he’d taken every step higher through the ranks, and every time he pretended not to be affected by the demonstrations of Ren’s raw power he was so often threatened with.

"That’s not possible," he insists. "If I could, you I think I’d let you sift through my thoughts as often as you allow yourself to do so?"

"But you did it now," Ren presses. Hux stares at him in tense silence until Ren deems the dramatic pause long enough for him to continue, "Watch."

Ren’s eyes are almost black in the dim room but Hux refuses to tear his gaze away, to fold in on himself and cower in the face of an unexpected variable. He waits for the inevitable and the moment he senses Ren’s consciousness seeping into his head, he snaps down onto it, chases it out. He’s entirely too aware of his actions, of the overwhelming sensation of the power he holds over Ren in that moment.

There’s a part of him screaming to _stop_ , to _run_ , to stop playing with elements he can’t control and return to his assignments; to leave Ren with his mysticism, that he wants no part of.

Instead, he pushes forward, consciously pressing back against Ren’s intrusion.

_And you’re doing it again._

He feels the voice in his head, and it’s hardly the first time Ren broadcasts his thoughts for him to hear. It’s not for another moment that he realizes it’s different, that his own mind is utterly clear of interference, and what he’s hearing is not in his own mind at all, but in _Ren’s_.

In a lapse of composure, Hux frantically pulls away and fails to stop himself from stumbling back. Ren is looking at him as if he doesn’t know if he should be grinning or arming himself for a fight.

"You were in my head. How long have you been able to do that?" Ren demands, and Hux wonders how daft he could possibly be.

Still, he can’t help but answer, stumbling over words and implications. "I’ve never — " he stops abruptly, screwing his eyes shut and drawing in a deep breath. He’s the epitome of equanimity when he sets his eyes on Ren. "I’m done with this. I have a ship to command. Good day, Ren."

"And you say _I_ have a predisposition to run from what troubles me," Ren’s voice stops him when he approaches the doorway. "What the hell are you doing, Hux?"

"My _job_ ," Hux snaps back immediately, voice firm to obscure the tremble.

"You’re going to ignore this?"

"I’m going to forget it ever happened," he corrects, turns to face Ren, "and for your sake I suggest you do the same."

" _You can’t just — "_   The door hisses shut behind him as Hux steps out into the corridor, the remainder of Ren’s chastising muted by the durasteel. Hux subconsciously wraps his fingers around the collar of his greatcoat, needlessly adjusting it in a physical attempt to ground himself.

His hands are shaking.

He ignores that, too.


End file.
